


The Stars Above

by scotchywrites



Series: A Hundred Red Roses [4]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Angst and Romance, Dry Humping, Established Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, F/M, Forehead Kisses, Foreplay, Making Out, One Shot, Premature Ejaculation, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:01:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25735468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scotchywrites/pseuds/scotchywrites
Summary: "Put your hands on my hips," Beverly whispered into Ben's ear. Sometimes, he needed a little help. Guidance. Sometimes, he was a little shy, but she would help him. She would help him get something she knows he would appreciate, even if he didn't explicitly say it out loud. She had seen it in his eyes. They make out a lot and they have touched each other before, but they have never made love before because neither of them was ready for it. Ben had made her feel real good once or twice with his fingers and Beverly had once wanted to make Ben feel real good with her hands, but he had shied away. They were moments as good as they were rare. Beverly could feel it in her bones that this time it would be good, maybe different.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom & Beverly Marsh, Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh
Series: A Hundred Red Roses [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1822030
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	The Stars Above

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have a proofreader, so there might be a few small errors.

Ben Hanscom had taken her to one of his favourite places in Nebraska that wasn't the backyard of his own house, which Beverly already found to be so romantic on its own. She loved those nights when she and Ben would just take a large blanket and some pillows and some drinks with them outside, to lie together on their backs and hold hands as they watch the stars above. She recalls when they had done that in Derry, too, before it was time to leave again and each go their own ways. Beverly was glad now, that her path had brought her back to Nebraska. Back to Ben Hanscom, who was so set on finding the perfect constellation of stars, and he would name it after her. But every night when they would gaze at the skies, he would tell her over and over again that there is no constellation in our known universe that could possibly ever match to her beauty. The first time Ben had told her that, Beverly had blushed as red as her hair.

He had taken her with him into his red 1968 Cadillac DeVille Convertible, all the way into the heart of Hemingford Home, Nebraska. Though he had been staying in Nebraska for a few years now, there were still a lot of locations Ben hasn't been to. Mostly because he doesn't have the time, sometimes because he didn't have anyone else to go with him. But now he did. Now, he has Beverly Marsh and if he could, he would show her the world. But they would start with Nebraska, and go from there. Just like a lot of other things in their life spent together, they would proceed with small steps, take things one at a time. Today, he took her to the lake. At its core, it wasn't much different than their handful of dates spent under the stars in his backyard, but at the same time it also felt so different from what they both where used to.

Beverly liked this fresh taste of romance very much. She loved sitting on the wool blanket in the sand, by Ben's side. She loved wrapping her own arms around his big, warm upper arm and having her head rest against his shoulder as they both watched the sunset together. The lake was a large body of water. It stretched out far in front of them, the later at night it became, the more difficulty Beverly had to decipher where the shore laid on the other side. But she could see the curve of the trees marking the horizon fairly well. They were outlined in black against the fiery reds of the sunset. The moment the sky had begun changing colors, Ben couldn't hold back his cheesy little comment about her hair. Beverly loves it, every time he would talk about her hair as if it were more beautiful than any of the paintings gathered at the Louvre in Paris.

They counted nights like these as dates, even if they didn't go anywhere fancy or didn't talk much. To Ben, they felt real and genuine enough to be lasting memories and for Beverly, they were far more special than any place Tom Rogan had taken her to. He actually never took Beverly on dates. He only ever took her on business dinners, and tried to get away with it. Beverly has always thought that a sack of potatoes is more romantic than Tom.

And when the sun had set behind the horizon long ago, they didn't leave. Because this was what they were good at. They would lie down on their blanket and look up at the stars and while it feels familiar, it also kind of doesn't, because they weren't in Ben's backyard. Beverly listened to the silent current of the water. She was feeling a little cold, so she'd invited herself to cuddle up to Ben, and Ben hadn't rejected her. Maybe he was waiting for it.

She had her head resting on Ben's chest. Her arm laid draped over his stomach like he had his own draped around her shoulders in order to keep her close. She could feel him slowly trace his palm over her shoulder and her upper arm, as if to rub some warmth into her skin. It felt good. He was enjoying it, too. Beverly could tell. His breath was steady, and relaxed. The drum of his heart underneath his chest soothed her own mind into tranquility. Beverly Marsh could stay like this forever. She could trace the dips and curves of his abdomen forever, but now she mostly did it to give him some affection in return, for the gentle rub of her arm. Ben had grown into his looks compared to when he was a boy in Derry, but Beverly didn't really care about that. Ben Hanscom could put on a few pounds and she would still love him to pieces because the man she had with her now, had even more gold in his heart than the boy from roughly thirty years ago. 

***

Ben walked Beverly back inside his house (or was it theirs now?). He was floating on a cloud and felt under her spell. When Beverly would touch her arms, she would think she's cold. But on the inside, she felt so warm. She had a fire smoldering inside her, and it was Ben who had ignited it. And every time she would look behind her to steal a glance from him, she could feel the fire grow inside her chest. Back on that lakeside shore, Ben had given her a free pass on letting her hand wander over his stomach. Now, Beverly came to realize how much something as small and simple had eventually been playing on her subconscious all this time. When she turned to look at Ben, she wondered if he would agree if she were to ask him if he can take off his shirt, and if she can touch him again.

They agreed to take things slow, as slow as they need to because Ben understands what Beverly is trying to tell him without actually saying it whenever she would cover herself around him when she's fresh out of the shower, or when she would take up her shirt or her top again and pull it over her head after she and Ben had been making out in bed late at night. Beverly understands, when Ben moves into the bathroom to change shirts. She understands when he doesn't say it to her, but when he looks at her in that very, very specific way that tells her he's not ready for it yet. They don't seem to need to say it out loud, to have the other understand and acknowledge their limits. Being together with Ben Hanscom brought so much comfort, tranquility and safety into Beverly's life. Maybe she was addicted to this man in more than one way.

Beverly didn't ask Ben to take off his shirt. Instead, she asked him if she could kiss him, but didn't say it with words. He could read it in the look in her eyes and she would find her answer in his eyes in return.

They inched closer to each other. They were in the living room where Beverly placed her hands against Ben's chest and Ben put his hands on her waist as they kissed softly at first, then a little deeper, but still tenderly. And they went on, and on, kissing and tasting each other on their own lips. Each taste she could have of Ben made the fire spark up inside Beverly's chest. They found themselves floating in their kisses, their feet nearly waltzing for a place to sit. Beverly could taste it in Ben's mouth now. She wasn't exactly the only one with a fire burning inside her. It was a stupid little thing, but she was sure that Ben could taste it on her, too, when she's intoxicated with his proximity. They smiled against each other's lips. Ben guided her down with him, onto the couch. Their noses brushed against each other. Beverly settled down into Ben's lap and placed her hands on his shoulders first. He left his on her waist, and traced his palms up and down in that same soothing motion like he had stroked her arm on the lakeside shore. It felt so good, so nice. Beverly curled into his touch and pressed her forehead against Ben's. She had wrapped her arms around his neck now and had one of her hand gently playing with his hair on the back of his head, right above the nape of his neck. She could've sworn she heard Ben purr for a moment.

Ben looked up at her as they leaned their foreheads against each other. He felt happy, and more. Beverly smiled at him, it was almost a smirk. When he looked into her eyes he not only saw an incredible constellations of greens, but he also saw a little bit of mischief in there, and a hint of hunger. But it wasn't a hunger for food. It was a different kind of hunger, and the fire burning inside his chest told Ben that he felt it, too.

"What's on your mind, Handsome?" Beverly asked him. She loves it when Ben looks at her like this. He always looks so focussed, and lost at the same time. He was lost in her. It's his favourite kind of lost to be. "You," Ben said after a breath's moment of silence. They both chuckled at the same time until Beverly sealed their lips in another, longing kiss.

She tastes so good on his lips. Ben hummed against her pink lips. Beverly was so beautiful, she didn't necessarily need any lipstick in order to make her lips stand out. But when she sometimes would wear some bright red, Ben's heart would flutter once or twice and she loves it when he looks at her with that little blush on his face each time she shows herself to him all dressed up and ready to go. Ben Hanscom was so easy to fluster and maybe it was one of her favourite little details about him.

Beverly caught another hum in her kiss. She tasted his excitement in Ben's breath, like a silent invite. They both know that despite the tenderness of their relationship and the amounts of love and affection they both have to give to each other, moments like these still remained so rare. Ben loves making out, and Beverly adores making out with Ben. She's sure that she would love sex with Ben, too. She briefly wondered if he would like to have sex with her, too.

"Touch me," Beverly whispered into the kiss, directly into Ben's mouth. There was no one else around to hear, but in her mind it just felt so much more intimate (and powerful) like this. She saw Ben's eyes go up to seek hers and she smiled against his lips. She knows what's on his mind. He would ask her 'Are you sure?' and even before he could say it, she already answered his question. "It's okay. I want you to." She encouraged him by gently rolling her hips into his. Beverly drew a hot breath from Ben. She liked it. She knows what's possibly going on in that head of his, and god...it's good. It's all good, and it's all great. She felt hot with confidence, and love.

"Don't make me beg, Ben," Beverly tried again. She had that little voice, Ben likes it far more than whatever Voices Richie Tozier could come up with. It was a voice, innocent at first, but the intentions it had? She drew a reaction out of Ben. When she pushed her hips into his, he would arch into her friction in return, because it felt good and for the love of all things good in this world, it felt so goddamn great. Ben couldn't make Beverly beg for anything. He doesn't have the heart for it. But she could possibly make him beg for anything, and he'd love her still, if she were to do so. Beverly could do anything to Ben, and Ben would possibly only love her more and more. Men are fools, but Ben Hanscom is her favourite type of fool. Big, strong and with a heart of gold. He was the good kind of fool, the perfect kind. She laughed so softly at her own train of thoughts as she straddled his lap and stole another kiss from Ben. He had finally given into her desires. His hands wandered underneath her shirt, to touch the soft skin of her waist. Beverly exhaled a happy little hum, it was almost a moan. She hid it by sealing their lips in a kiss, but eventually moaned into Ben's mouth when his fingers brushed against her bra. God, he was so innocent and it was ridiculous how he could put fires into her bones so fucking easily! Beverly felt the fire inside her spark up, all the way into her throat. She sank her teeth into Ben's bottom lip. He arched his hips into hers in response, and moaned quietly into the kiss. Beverly Marsh could play him like a fiddle and it was so fucking ridiculous, but he wouldn't want to change it for anything in this world.

"God, Ben," Beverly whispered into his mouth. It drives Ben crazy when she speaks only for him to hear, whether it was directly against his lips, or into his ear. She pulled from the kiss and looked down at him. He looked so good, a little flushed. Hot and bothered, by far. She was no fool. The flush on his cheeks was in direct correlation with the swell in his pants. She grinned at him. When he would look into her eyes, he would see she had something in mind. Something special. Beverly hardly allowed him any time to look into her eyes. She still had her arms wrapped around his neck. She still had one hand in his hair. But now she moved her head so that she could talk to him, most intimately, and only meant for his ear to hear.

A lot of their relationship was built on learning, on both sides. Ben learns Beverly how to give her love to another, and she discovers she has far more love to give than she herself was ever aware of. Her husband has never been worthy of love. She knows that, but she had thought that she had lost her love or her ability to love when Tom Rogan had pushed her down into the mattress once too many, to fuck. Ben Hanscom calls it making love and she thinks it's the hottest thing she's ever heard it being called. And in return, Beverly teaches Ben a thing or two about showing love as well. She knows he knows how to do it, but she also knows he doesn't know how to intimately get it done. He hadn't told her, but she had her assumptions about the amount of experience he had. It was one of those many things they never needed to verbally address in order for it to be known among the two of them.

"Put your hands on my hips," Beverly whispered into Ben's ear. Sometimes, he needed a little help. Guidance. Sometimes, he was a little shy, but she would help him. She would help him get something she knows he would appreciate, even if he didn't explicitly say it out loud. She had seen it in his eyes. They make out a lot and they have touched each other before, but they have never made love before because neither of them was ready for it. Ben had made her feel real good once or twice with his fingers and Beverly had once wanted to make Ben feel real good with her hands, but he had shied away. They were moments as good as they were rare. Beverly could feel it in her bones that this was one of them. This occasion? It would be good, maybe different. Maybe something entirely new. Maybe she could make Ben feel real good this once. She wondered if he maybe could let her do it twice because god, does he even know how intoxicating he is? If she didn't know any better, Beverly would've easily jumped him long ago. The thought fleeted through her mind, in a split second she imagined herself, naked in Ben's bare lap. She thought of his length filling her up real good, hitting her core with that same combination of rough and tender Ben had all over his physical appearance. She thought about Ben's cock and the very few times she had stolen a glance of it when Ben thought she wasn't even looking. She tried to imagine the hardness underneath her, being inside her and making her feel so good she could burst into a constellation of stars on top of Ben Hanscom as he gives her the best orgasm in history. Ben's hands are magic. She wonders what his prick can do.

"Yeah, right there," she whispered. Ben had his hands right where Beverly wanted it. She tightened her grip on his hair a little, as well as how closely she had her arms wrapped around him. She moved her hips in a bigger motion now, into Ben's hands and down onto the bulge in his pants. She kept her head nuzzled next to Ben's and brushed her nose against his ear as she continued grinding into him. "Guide me," she spoke into his ears. She'd earned herself a little moan from Ben. He was a quick learner (luckily) and soon picked up that if he pressed his thumbs against her hip bones, Beverly would move back and if he pushed his other fingers against the small of her back, she would push herself into his lap again. Every time she would push herself against his erection, he craved for more, and more. And for a split second Ben's mind wandered elsewhere. For a moment, he thought about Beverly's cute little flower dress and how it would look better on the floor while he made sweet, sweet love to her. Ben gasped for air, it pulled him out of his vivid train of thoughts. Beverly felt him tense up underneath her, but she didn't worry. Oh no, she didn't. Because when Ben shivered in her arms and quickly went to hide his entire face into her chest with a low, lasting moan, she knew exactly what he was going through. He had reached his arms up to grab at her back. He pulled her closer, his face still hidden in her chest. His nose pressed into her cleavage. Beverly had her fingers gripping at Ben's hair, as if to encourage to let it go, and ride out his orgasm. She had cast her eyes up to look at a frame of a painted misty forest on Ben's living room wall. She had often wondered if it was a real place, and who had painted it. Ben groaned quietly against her chest. Beverly had the biggest, dumbest grin on her face. If Ben could see her like this, he would want for the couch to swallow him whole.

Ben didn't even need to see her face in order to be ambushed by his own overwhelming embarrassment the very second the pleasure washed off his muscles enough in order for him to let her go. He slumped in her hold and released her so he could drop back on the couch. His white button-up shirt felt damp against his chest and in his pits. Beverly still sat in his lap, but he could feel the wetness stick to his thighs. His cheeks flushed as red as her hair and Ben looked away. He didn't know where he was allowed to put his hands now, but eventually settled by putting them on Beverly's smooth thighs. She couldn't even make him look up when she reached to cup his face in her hands.

"Ben?" she asked. She tried her best to hide her grin. She felt in her heart that Ben wouldn't want to see her laughing now, even when she did find it so great. "Hey, Ben?"

"Yeah." Ben barely made any sound. He just wanted for the couch to swallow him whole and never bring him back into the living room ever again. He sat so still, knowing very well that with every little bit he moves, he would be reminded again, of the sticky pool inside his black jeans. "You okay?" He heard her, but he somehow lacked the words to say anything. Ben's head felt so empty, and so full at the same time. Maybe he just lacked the right thoughts. All else he could think of was shame, embarrassment and disgust. He nodded his head. Beverly picked up on it. She wouldn't try to get any more out of him.

"Come," she spoke tenderly. Now, any sign of a grin or a laugh were entirely gone, even when she still felt a little giddy about it. In her mind, this night would have lasted a lot longer. In her fantasy, she would've riled Ben up on the couch, and he would make some incredible love to her in their bed and afterwards they would care for each other until they fall asleep again. But they weren't there yet, it seems. And it would take many more steps before they could ever go that far. But Beverly has patience with Ben, as much as he could be patient with her. She wouldn't mind waiting another twenty-seven years if it means she could eventually have the best goddamn sex in the world.

Beverly climbed from Ben's lap. He was now faced with all of his shame in its full glory. He glanced up to see what Beverly thought about it, but she wasn't even looking. She had felt it in the air that it wouldn't do Ben any good if she were to look at his lap now, even if she thought it was really fucking hot how she had made Ben feel so damn good by doing so little. He was so dedicated to her, so smitten with her. With Ben following after her, Beverly could allow her a quick little smile before she glanced behind her and reached out her hand. Ben held onto it and let Beverly guide him all the way to the bathroom.

"Bathroom's all yours," Beverly told him. They stood face to face but even with Ben hanging his head, she still had to look up in order to get a good look at him. There was something handsome about his shyness. She reached out to place her hand on his arm. "You get cleaned up, I'll put those in the laundry and get you a hot chocolate, okay?" This was her motherly voice, Ben thought. Beverly had an instinct for it, despite having missed a mother figure in her life. She would make a good mother, Ben thought in the same breath. But to be a mother, he might want to think about being a father and to be a father...

Ben nodded. He loved her so much. Beverly was so good to him. Maybe too good. He could feel her looking at him. He has avoided looking at her for too long now. When he raised his head up, it was to press a brief kiss against her forehead before he stepped into the bathroom to get himself cleaned up. Beverly retreated into the kitchen to take care of the promise she's just made to Ben. She tried hard to focus on the chocolate milk, but can't help but feel the aftermath of her own excitement still slowly washing off. She knew Ben would take quite some time in the bathroom before he would come out again and first decided to take a seat on one of their bar stools, slide over a magazine and cross her legs until her thighs were pressed tightly against each other. She would reread articles she's been through once before until she no longer felt like she needed to pee, and then went to make two large mugs of chocolate milk. Beverly prepared the microwave and while she waited for the milk to heat up, she had wandered over to the large kitchen window where she would cross her arms over her chest as if to hold herself, and gazed up at the carpet of stars far above the woods surrounding Ben's home.

Life is good, Beverly thought, and Ben Hanscom makes it worth living.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/bnvrly)!


End file.
